Tales of Proud Deadmen - Fire and Ice Fanfiction
by The Writer in the Night
Summary: Even in the Hands of True and Honorable Men, History are often distorted to serve a purpose. I am the voice of the Vanquished, the conscience of the Conquered and the soul of the Besmirched, the Villainous Sideshows in the Grand Game of Thrones.
1. Lord Gormon Peake

I am sick of it all. I am sick of the depressing landscape that litters outside my castle of Starpike -the ruin that Lord

Brynden Bloodraven has kindly gifted to me after the Battle at Redgrass Field. I am sick of grovelling to the Targaryens,

the Tyrells and even that bastard Raven after my unfortunate support of the "usurper" Daemon Blackfyre. However most

of all I am sick of the smug smile that Lord Ashford has on his pimpled fat face as he sat across the table from me. The

Ashford House is an upstart family that gained favor with the Targaryens during Aegon's conquest and the current Lord

Ashford is a young parvenu only nine and thirty. A plump and comfortable fella who has drank and whored his way into

the good favors of the Targaryens, his only saving grace was that he choose the red dragon during the great battle and

now he is given lordship over the lands along the tributary of Cockleswhent river: a title that rightfully belonged to ME!

The three castles lying along Cockleswhent: Cawthorne, New Barrel and Starpike all currently proudly fly the Peake banner,

but alas, Daemon Blackfyre lays dead on the Redgrass Field and now this son of a pig sit in front of me waving a piece

of paper from King Daeron concerning my punishment for supporting the Black Dragon.

"Lord Peake, our good King Daeron is a merciful king and he has seen fit that you should keep your head on your

shoulders while your family would remain unharmed. Whats more, he has also decreed that the holding of Starpike shall

remain in your household and that you will continue to be the Lord of Starpike until The Seven see fit to call you up.

However even his boundless mercy must be tempered with justice and an example must be made of one such as yourself. You

who shielded the Usurper's sons and was one of the highest ranking supporter of the Usurper. This is our Kings

Command: that you will forfeit your estate of Cawthorne to Lord Yelshire and New Barrel to Ser Raymund Fossaway and

your overlordship of the Cockleswhent region shall henceforth be transfer to me. From this day forth I shall post a

retinue of overseers in Starpike and the Castle of Starpike shall retain no more than a thousand men at arms and no

more than fifty knights. In addition, you must surrender a hostage of your own blood to be sent to King's Landing as

assurance of your future loyalty. What say you of these terms, Lord Peake?"

Biting my lips, I barely contained my anger and pronounced: "Lord Ashford, I am grateful of an esteemed nobleman

such as yourself bringing the king's message to my humble estate. I am but a humble servant who has erred in his

judgement. The terms are fair, give me one day to disband my retinue and you shall have my reply tomorrow."

"Of course, I shall patiently wait for your answers tomorrow. Tonight I shall rest with my escorts outside in the

castle town." With that said, Lord Ashford stood up and triumphantly walked out of the room to join the ten thousand

men that was dispatched to kindly remind me of my precarious conditions.

Curse that man and curse all the Targaryens to hell, there is no way King Daeron doesn't know that I have only one

child, my son and heir Edwyn. While its true Edwyn is four and twenty and has two sons, they are both but infants. That

smug Ashford knows this and plan to take my Edwyn north with him to present to King Daeron as a trophy! My only

SON AND HEIR, a glorified prisoner in Kings Landing. Whats more, with a single stroke of a pen, that Bastard Daeron

has brought our house low, the House Peake that has been the most powerful lords in the Cockleswhent region since

before the conquest of Aegon with all the lesser lords doing fealty to us. The House Peake with its proud ancestry dating

back to the fourth son of Garth Greenhand. If I acceed to the terms of the Targargyens, only the Castle of Starpike and

the city of Bingfield will be left in my fief leaving our House without a doubt the most humble and impoverished house in

all of Reach, nay, all of Westeros.

"Son, know this, dead men have no pride and neither do they value honor. They neither enjoy the comfort of home nor

pleasure of a woman. All the treasures of the world matters not to them and won't bring them a single measure of

happiness. LIVE! My son, LIVE and THRIVE! IF EVER HONOR or PRIDE should conspire to deceive you, forsake them. Ten

years, twenty years, one generation, two generation, what of it! Life is too precious and if its revenge that you seek,

remember this always! Revenge for the living not the dead!"

My father's words on his death bed thunders in my head. I still remember his trembling withered hand holding mine. His

sunken eye sockets could not hide the bright light in his eyes as he pointed to the old painting hung in his bed chamber.

The painting was of Aegon Targargyen, the second of his name who lost a hundred battles only to live and survive and

eventually triumph over his proud sister Rhenyra. Then I was but a young hot blooded lordling who thought nothing but

battles for honor and glory, Redgrass Field has changed all of that. I seen what men can do to others and the folly of

honor and glory on the battlefield. Daemon Blackfyre honorablly spared Ser Corbray only to be ruthlessly cut down by a

bastard. I have never quite understood my father's dying words nor their significance but now faced with the most

serious crisis of my life, I suddently saw the light.

It was a cold morning when I led my son Edwyn out of the Castle. His eyes swollen, he already bid a tearful goodbye to

his aged mother, his loving young wife and his two newborn babes. In the court yard, I gave him the words of my father.

"Remember Son, this tragedy shall pass one day. I do not know when we shall meet again but I want you to remember

this: what ever you do, live and thrive! I promise you the next time we meet, I shall take you home across the field

filled with the corpses of our enemies!"

As Edwyn mounted his black strider and rode away with Lord Ashford, I immediately set about to the business of

rebuilding Starpike and summoned my council from the lands left in my lordship. The road ahead will be long and

ardous, but LIVE and THRIVE! Those words echoed through out the great hall of Starpike.


	2. Maester Hardwyck

As a Chained Maester of the Citadel, I have forsaken the life of the common men, noble or small. House, family, love, glory, these things was supposed to be dead to me. Knowledge and duty are my watchwords now as I have faithfully served the Peake family for three generations. However, I hold no illusion when it comes to a question of Black vs Red. I maybe a scion of a most minor house of Rosamund, but within me runs the blood of Mern the king who burned at the field of fire. The Gardeners left no true born heirs but plenty of bastards as the Houses of the Reach can plentifully attest to. During the Blackfyre rebellion, I relished the news that Daemon had killed this noble or that one. They are all lackeys of the Targargyens to me. After the tragedy at Redgrass Field, and my Lord knelt to the so called good King Daeron, that was a dark day for me. Little did I know, the real battle has yet begun

As I walked towards my chamber during a cold and windy morning, I spot my Lord Peake with fierce fire in his brown eyes walking through the great hall. His auburn hair cropped to a majestic crown, he looked nothing like a middle aged man but a virile wolf with hunger in his eyes. He spotted me immediately and shouted: "Maester Hardwyck, just the man I needed to see. Bloodraven and his host has just left and Ashford with him too, I need ravens to summon Mayor Binkledge and Ser Bronn Hartwell and their host. They currently hold Cawthorne and New Barrel in my name but they belong to other Lords now, the so called Loyalists." A grin slowly crept up his face. "Make sure to inform them of this fact and they will know what to do. Also I need a Raven to Lord Gawen Cockshaw to inform him that I would like his son Alyn Cockshaw to come to Starpike and be my squire as we have discussed previously. Where is that damned Petyr Manderwell, I called for a compilation of my deeds, titles, debts, and warrants an hour ago and he has yet to show himself. If you see him, tell him that I need them for the council this afternoon and for every page of document he fails to supply he shall pay with his fingers!"

"Yes, my lord I shall sent the Ravens out at once." Hurriedly I walked away to the Rookery while Lord Peake bellowed in the distance: "I need the map of my lands as well, Maester, bring them yourself and some stimulating khafi, we have much work to be done."

Mayor Binkledge and Ser Hartwell are in every sense of the word my Lords left and right hand. A middle aged man with gray trimmed sideburns, Mayer Binkledge is a keen administrator of these lands and did much to make the Peake lands prosper. House Peake supplied four thousand men, three hundred knights and various other sell swords to Black Dragon's cause all the while holding Starpike with out a shortage of food nor arms. All of these are due in no small part to the plans of the Mayor who was addressed as Lord Mayor by Leo Tyrell himself when he bestowed that honor on him three summers ago. Ser Hartwell with his fiery red head and beaming gray eyes made him look like a demon himself. He was given the nickname "Devil's Whip" for his fearsome countenance as well as the double flail that he wields in battle. When Lord Gormon Peake slew Hayford in the Battle, Hayfords three sons all charged at him. With both of his flails flying in the wind, Ser Hartwell dispatched them all to the Stranger in the time it took Lord Peake to wipe the blood off his sword. After Redgrass field, Lord Gormon retreated to his strong hold of Starpike but ordered these two to his other two castles as a strategy to shield one another and to harass the Loyalist supply line. To take all three castles, the price would have been enormous. King's terms to Lord Gormon is as much out of mercy as out of practical considerations.

As I walked in the meeting with all the maps I could find in the castle, a fierce argument has already broken out. "A thousand carts! A THOUSAND CARTS of provisions. Hundreds of animals and I have information from good source the entire stockpile of armors and weapons! How could you leave them for the Fossaways! Our enemies! The peasants too, all of them are still at New Barrel with their families and properties. How dare you show your face to me with naught but the miserable three hundred men I assigned to you!?" Lord Gormon was bellowing like a wild beast with spit flying in the face of a sullen looking Hartwell. With smirk on his face and crossing his arms, Binkledge watched silently from the other side of the table while Petyr practically buried his face in the documents pretending to read this and that.

"But the children and women need provisions for the winter. The war has all but destroyed this year's harvest. I was only thinking of your good name..."

"Good name! Thats what I need to rebuild my land, good name and plump fat peasants singing my praises. Yes they will be happily singing and toiling the land that now belongs to OUR SWORN ENEMIES! You your own flail gave Raymund Fossaway a nice present across his chest on the Redgrass field, maybe you should go take up service with him and see how he repays your fucking kindness. Why am I surrounded by honorable fools and proud idiots. Binkledge, tell me you have better news than this."

His sly grin quickly disappeared, Mayor Binkledge quietly began to speak "My lord, alas I was not able to provide for the peasants as well as Ser Hartwell had done. My men saved what they could, but somehow a mysterious fire has destroyed Cawthorne and most provisions were burned. Also During our retreat to Starpike, a hundred of my most violent and capable men disappeared into the country side. I fear that they will form a band of robbers and rapers who will wreck havoc uppon the lands around Cawthorne. I stand ready to receive my lords punishment."

Smiling and pulling his beard, Lord Gormon considered his words for a moment when he noticed my presence. "Ah, Maester Hardwyck, just the man I want to see. Have you news from Lord Cockshaw and are those the maps I requested? Find me the one of our neighbors the Ashfords and our lands ajoining them."

"Aye my lord, Lord Cockshaw informs me that his son will be here within a fortnight with his retinue and he has given his heir full power to act in his name. I only have a map here showing most of our lands but only half of Ashford, I hope that will be enough."

"Thats good and yes it will suffice, go and see to it that you prepare a place for young Alyn Cockshaw's arrival. Now lets see how far downstream Lord Ashford land is from Starpike. The Cockleswhent are in such a dirty state that me thinks this year the water might be especially foul..."


	3. Mayor Binkledge

"Ah, yes, fuck me hard me lord. I live only to be fucked. I am a dirty whore." As I take her from behind, the bitch's moans and her dirty words only sickens me. She was but one of hundreds of servants in my lord's service. I am not the first to take her but I know in my heart I will be the last. "Take me, my lord, take me with you to your keep. I want to serve you alone. Make me your bitch and take me every day." As I gave her my last spurt, I pulled out and said cooly: "That wasn't the worst fuck I've gotten, but it certainly wasn't the best. As for bitches, I've got more than I could count back in my keep. Another one wouldn't do me any good."

As I dressed myself, her face turned from desire to despare and then to anger. Viciously she howled at me, "You are nothing but a fucking hound, a lap dog of a loser of a lord. What are you good but a corpse! Go and die in a gutter..." Her sound disappeared in the distance as I walked into the court yard. She won't live past tonight, what a pity, to be burned alive is such a horrific way to die, I wonder if I should inform her.

The next morning, as I rode away with three hundred men under my command, the Castle Cawthorne was still burning in the distance. The howling wind mixed with the crys of men, women and child. The smoke has reached far into the sky. Such a pity I had to burn the servant girl, but others will take her place. The provisions burned was a dear price to pay, but we have no way to bring them all to Starpike and leaving them for the Yelshires was out of the question.

"My lord mayor, we have take care eveything as you ordered. I have also picked a hundred of your most loyal men as you ordered. I fear however they won't listen to anyone except you and me." A man need loyal servants more than he needs trusted friends, such was my philosophy and Borus the Boar was such a loyal servant. A butcher by trade, he was but a commoner in the market of Bingfield when I spoted him cleave straight through the ribs of a two hundred pound boar. Talent is such a terrible thing to waste and I spared no effort to find him a place in my lord's service.

"Borus, I leave you here with your brave company of a hundred. You will be my eyes and ears in these parts. More importantly however, you will be my strength in these parts. I will rely on you to make sure Lord Yelshire will make no trouble for anyone except himself."

"By your orders, Sire. Do I have full power to do as I please?"

"As far as I know, you are a common bandit, your actions reflect on no lord, and you do as you please."

Starpike looks not much worse for the wear, the Great Halls still as dreary as ever, the servants even more sullen faced than I last saw them. The great hall of Starpike was great only because of a lack of chairs and tables. A frugal man, Lord Gormon forbit them as a luxury we could ill afford in these troubled times. Without the banners of house Peake decorating every corning, one could hardly distinguish this hall from anyother room in the castle. As I walked away towards the council chamber, Petyr Manderwell, the weasel of a scribe caught up to me. Breathless, he barely squezzed out his words: "my lord... lord mayor... there is some thing... something I MUST tell you, before... before you see Lord Gormon."

"Calm down, Petyr, you are pale like death itself. Calm down and tell me everything."

"Its the debt we owe the Iron Bank of Bravvos. When my lord joined Daemon Blackfyre he demanded that I come up with enough coins to fund the entire army of the Blackdragon. I raised taxes on the peasants, nobles even the septons. I cut half the pay of the household and even sold my lord's family heirlooms. I even did as you commanded Lord Binkledge, and sold debt to in the name of Starpike to Bank Merchants within our realm but it wasn't enough, I had to borrow ten thousand gold dragons from the Iron Bank to cover the shortfall. But, but now that Daemon lost and his supporters scattered, none of the other lords want to compensate us for the provisions we have given them, we are stuck with this debt ourselves, what are we to do! Lord Gormon would have my head!" Petyr was sobbing and slobbering before he even finished.

Considering the situation for a moment, I gentlely comforted Petyr. : "There, there, no use crying over spilt milk. Things are not as dire as they might seem. Thanks to Redgrass Field, our house has unprecendented prestige in Westeroes as well as Essos. We command such respect that I have already gotten in contact with Lord Bittersteel across the sea in Volentis. He agrees with me that the thousands of nobles and knights under him must be put to use lest they lose their edge and desire to restore the Blackdragon. Summon the representative of Iron Bank to me as soon as you can, I am sure I can convince him the various benefits of the goodwell of our House and see profit in our connections. As for the debts to those within the realm, what of it, we owe what we owe and they would be fools to try to collect those debts lest they find themselves face to face with me. Ha!"

The meeting with lord Gormon passed without much incident except for the stupity of that oaf Hartwell. For someone with the fearsome countenance of a Demon, he has the personality of an ass. His notion of honor and nobility will be his downfall, but then again my Lord Gormon might have use for such brainless brawn - after all SOMEONE has to die on the field of battle and it certainly won't be me. Mayhaps I could utilize Hartwell's stupity to my advantage? Hartwell's undeniable loyalty to House Peake could certainly come in handy if the Septons and the Nobles were to hear of next years' new taxes...


	4. Ser Alyn Cockshaw

Its been a whole year, A YEAR without his soothing presence. His majestic long silvery hair fluttering in the wind, his purple eyes shone like the brightest Amethyst, his every move refined and noble. We were not related by blood but I KNOW deep down I am the brother he needed and he was the brother I wanted. I still remember the day they took him, that dark midnight when they spirited him away. I didn't even get to say goodbye, when I woke next morning, I cried and begged my father to let me go to Essos with him. I didn't care about land, titles, or wealth, at that moment, all I would have given everything in the world to be with my prince, my Daemon.

A long year and countless sleepless nights later, I have not forgotten him but my priorities have since changed. I am Ser Alyn Cockshaw, heir to the Lordship Bardsholm and a knight in service to Lord Gormon Peake in Starpike. Lord Gormon has trained me in various disciplines of war, sword combat, horsemanship, archery and various forms of siege craft, politics and economics however were another matter completely...

"Lord Gormon Peake, I protest this unjust and unsound taxation on the properties of the Sept. Four thousand years, from Arbor to the Wall, no Sept has ever had to pay a single copper to anyone other than the Most Holy High Septon. This latest act is but one travesty in a long list of attack upon the Sept, nay upon the Faith itself! I demand you cease this at once unless I bring up this matter with the Most Holy himself."

The great hall of Starpike was filled with eerie silence after Septon Hobbler made his righteous pronouncement. Lord Gormon Peake sat emotionless on his throne with Mayor Binkledge and Ser Hartwell behind him on both sides. The hall was filled with people from all over the Lordship, prominent merchant families, lesser nobles of Starpike, church men of various stature and even a few foreigners from one of the free cities of which I know nothing of. Their stations in life differ, but I know they are all in Starpike for one thing and one thing only: Money.

After a minute of awkward silence, Lord Gormon motioned Maester Hardwyck to bring in from the courtyard an elderly man clad in the Rainbow raiment of a Septon. Confusion washed over Septon Hobbler's face until he realized to his horror that this was none other than Lord Gormon Peake's uncle Edmure Peake. The elderly man trembling bowed before Lord Gormon before presenting Lord Gormon with a piece of red sealed paper.

"For crimes of Simony and Usury, Valaar Hobbler, you have been found guilty by the High Septon himself and henceforth you shall be stripped of your station. The High Septon has viewed my donations most favorably and has named Edmure Peake to be the Starpike Septon. As for you, you shall serve as an example of my fair and noble rule. Ser Boswell! See to it the good septon finds his way to his gibbet."

"I protest, this is an outrage! You have no right! By the sevens, let me go, let me go, I demand an audience with King..." As he was dragged away, the Septon was being stripped of his cloth and blood began to spew out of various orifices from the punches Ser Boswell landed on his face.

Satisfied with the pale and sullen faces in front of him, Lord Peake spoke thus: "I am a generous man to my friends and a scourge to mine enemies, but most important of all I am a reasonable man. I know that I owe the prosperity of my realm to all of you in this room and for that I am truly grateful. As all of you know, many misfortunes have conspired to bring low my once noble house, and in these troubled times we must all make sacrifices to strengthen the realm. The taxes MUST be paid and the debts MUST be renegotiated, I trust you all will find the truth and justice in my words."

"Bwhaha, haha, hah aha..." A sudden burst of bellowing laughter made me shudder. I did not know who dared to do such a foolish thing in front of my lord but I felt in my bones that he would live to regret this insolence. Everyone in the hall followed the voice to a strangely garbed man. He wore the most colorful robe I have every seen with embroideries so refined I could distinguish the individual animal patterns, pearls, diamonds and various other precious stones decorated him from head to toe. Yet despite the glitter, what caught my eyes were the unnatural purple beard on his face and the blue hair cascading down his back. "Definitely a Tyroshi" I thought to myself. Behind him stood two giant strong built dark and brawny men half naked with naught but leather shorts and sparkling rings on their fingers. Empty handed though they were, they looked every bit as menacing as a full plated knight.

"Who dare to mock our beloved lord! You cur, you will regret this, GUARDS!" Ser Hartwell drew his sword while motioning the four closest guards from the hall. Lord Peake sat silently on his throne, his face stalwart as usual not betraying any sign of emotion. As I was about to draw my sword, CRAAAASH, one of the banner man who first laid his hand on one of the dark men went head first into the wall, armor and all making a frightful sound. BOOM, POW, SWISH, the second man dodged two of the guards only to lay his enormous hand on both of their head, BAANNG, their heads collided and they fell lifeless on the ground. Seeing his comrades dead or beaten, the last guard charged with his spear towards the Tyroshi. I could almost imagine the pike driving into Tyroshi's throat when I heard a loud PAA! Almost like magic, the Tyroshi's hands appeared out of no where and caught the spear mid-air only to break the tip off and threw it into the guards' face.

"Enough of this! YOUR LORD COMMANDS IT!" Just as Ser Hartwell let out a whistle to summon all the guardsmen, Lord Peake suddenly stood up and his shout deafened everyone in the hall. Both the Peake men and the three Tyroshi stopped and look towards Lord Gormon.

"Who are you? Speak!"

The robed Tyroshi swung around, bowed his head and began to calmly speak: "My Lord Peake, I apologize for the troubles we have caused you but unfortunately we were attacked unprovoked. I am Promaithus Brachay, a humble servant of the Brotherhood of Moonsingers, these two are Brackio and Horatio. We are here at the command of the great Iron Bank who sent us to remind my noble lord of certain obligations."

"Is this how the Iron Bank greets its customers!? With contempt and bloodshed?! You might fight well, but you are in MY realm, take care I don't send your heads as my reply"

"Most noble lord, we serve at Masters' pleasure. The Iron Bank has foreseen your current problem, but we are sent not as debt collectors, my lord, we are sent as gifts. With our help, the debt will be the least of your concerns. Daemon the Black dragon might be dead, but his sons..."


	5. Lord Gormon Peake (2)

Mysterious, presumptuous, prosperous but most all deadly. The people of Essos are an anathema to our westerosi ways. But there is power in the mysteries of the East, the land where dragons originate. Who better to harness that power than Daemon Blackfyr's son and heirs, the heir of Dragon Power tempered with westerosi Chivalry. King Daeron was as weak a Targaryen that has ever sat on the Iron Throne. With the peasants revolting and the nobles scheming the only thing that kept him in power where the royal army marching from battle to battle putting out the raging fire. Daemon, the Warrior incarnate, Dragon spirit himself was often the commander of such expeditions while I was appointed his advisor. on countless moonless nights we would often converse under the star light sky...

"Gormon, I had the same dream last night, I summoned Tessarion the Black with a drake horn and rode him across the sea through Asshai and back in one day, OH, it was glorious! I feel, I KNOW in my heart that one day I shall become the Emperor of a New Valyria like my ancestors. But here I am, wandering, fighting battle after battle for a half brother that cares not for me nor the family name, I am an outcast in Kings' Landing, that den of VIPERS and THIEVES! Daeron has no respect for the Valyrian ways, he forsook my beautiful Daenarys and took that brown sand bitch from the south. I asked for that sacred union between me and Daenarys and he DARE to refuse me, ME! I practically won his crown for him! How many uprisings, how many revolts and rebellions have I crushed! I deserve better than this! A thousand time, A MILLION time MORE."

"Patience, my prince, patience. The time is not yet right despite what strength we have gathered. You are strong and noble and half of Westeros have been clamoring for your righteous rule, but we must tread carefully. We must wait until we that perfect moment when we can utterly CRUSH our enemies, grind them into ashes and scatter them into the wind..."

Tonight is another moonless night, the castle is fast asleep. The memory of the Redgrass Field still haunts me. The guards are dosing off at their post while I made my way up to the solar in the high tower. Off in the distance I could see the river Cockleswhent that have fed generations of Peakes and will nurture generations more to come. Like my bright prince, I was a dreamer, a bit more practical perhaps but no less imaginative. Peakes have the blood of heroes in them, the blood of kings who righteously ruled these lands for millenia.

During the age of heroes, it has been said one of my forefather, a noble man named Titus who grow up in the Gardener house was such a hero. Unsatisfied with his noble but secluded upbringing, he resolved to run away from a life time of mindless luxury and decided to travel the world and make his own way. A handsome and fearless swordman he won many battles and gained fame as one of the best duelist in Westeros, coming home to the Reach, he lead an attack that drove the Dornish back across the red mountains and took up residence at Starpike. Taking the name Peake, he bestowed upon all his descendents a sense of duty, we who guard the Reach like the tallest peake of the Red Mountains.

The Peakes shall rise again, despite the blows that we have been dealt. In the mere years since the Redgrass Field, House Peake has amassed a new reputation in Westeros – the land of duelists and mercenaries. Despite the limitations placed upon House Peake, we have found ways to circumvent the restrictions to the size and composition of our armed forces. A once rich and fertile land renowned for its fields and orchards, the land of Starpike was devasted by the plundering "loyalists" and pilfering peasants. Cut by two thirds per royal decree and filled with refugees from the war, Starpike was hardpressed to feed the ten thousand souls that dwelled within the domain. While Mayor Binkledge put the women and children to work tilling the fields, Ser Hartwell trained the men in the art of warcraft. Every month a new crop of soldiers were trained and secretly sold to the Golden Company where they fought in Essos for loot and glory. After a year of service, those who survived became battle hardened veterans whose loyalty to blackdragon's cause were unquestioned. For their services, they were rewarded with armors, weapons and a plot of land waiting for the day to be called up again.

Financial affairs too have been completely overhauled. Petyr Manderwell have came up with an ingenious ideas that force the wealth of the seven kingdoms to flow into Starpike. While its true the power to mint remained a royal puragative, the power to recognize other currencies was left to the individual lords of the realm. Nestled between the bank of Cockleswhent and the Red Mountains, Starpike sees its fair share of caravans and merchant fleets that passes through between Stormlands, Dorne and the Reach. I abolished all tolls but levied a 5% tax of all items that passes between traders. The traders are all compensated with the Iron Currencies of Essos instead of Westerosi money which allowed the city of Bingfield with its near monopoly of Essos coins to becoming a banking power of the region.

However, the new found military might and financial prowess of House Peake would be on shaky ground if not for the guile and wile of my new Spy Master - Promaithus Brachay the Tyroshi. Bringing various death dealing arts from Braavos, Promaithus has trained hundreds of duelists, bards and seductresses who made him a powerful and feared figure on my council. Some times I would often wonder if Promaithus' power belonged to me or someone else...

Clearing the thoughts in my head, I vowed to myself : " It matters not with the Gods or the Demons I pledge my life! DAEMON'S LINE WILL SITATOP THE IRON THRONE!"

Addenum: Council of Lord Gormon Peake

Castellan: Mayor Binkledge

Master of Arms: Ser Bronn Hartwell

Master of Coin: Petyr Manderwell

Spymaster: Promaithus Brachay

Maester: Hardwyck

Septon: Edmure Peake


End file.
